


Empty Spaces

by fallenandthefaithless (billys_consulting_flatmates)



Series: season 13 codas [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s13e02 The Rising Son, coda fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 21:12:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12490952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billys_consulting_flatmates/pseuds/fallenandthefaithless
Summary: For the first time since they’d moved in, Dean felt as if the bunker was suffocating him.





	Empty Spaces

The short walk to his room seemed to take no time at all. The quick strides he took to get away from J-it brought him to his bedroom door faster than he would have liked and left Dean standing there, staring at it blankly. It seemed to mock him, concealing the dark, empty room beyond it. The only thing that felt solid anymore was the bottle in his hand, the walls themselves seemed to be shifting, threatening to move in and crush him. For the first time since they’d moved in Dean felt as if the bunker was suffocating him.  
He couldn’t return to the kitchen – there was a good chance that Sam would still be there – and he couldn’t go to the library. It was still a mess, their quick clean only days ago had barely scratched the surface. Every room was tainted, every empty space screaming at him.

  
The messed-up library quickly brought other thoughts to the surface and despite how Dean tried to fight them off he couldn’t help but remember the last time the library had needed cleaning. The stench of petrol and the pile of damaged books now mixed with the blood that was currently still staining the floor. He could almost feel the blood under his nails again.

  
He quickly pushed his bedroom door open and slammed it shut behind him, leaning against it for a moment before he realised he was standing in his pitch-dark room. He reached out slowly with his free hand and flicked the light on and stared around him. His duffle bag had been dumped at the foot of his bed, the dirty clothes in it spilling out from where he’d rummaged in it before. Nothing else in the room had changed, nothing else showed the slightest hint that the world had been forever altered, that his world had been altered. The gaping holes were less obvious in here, those holes had never really been filled in here anyway but now they felt mocking, teasing him with the possibilities of what could have filled them. All these empty spaces could have been filled, the gaps in his life fleshed out.

  
His grip loosens on the bottle as something tightens in his chest. The tears he has been fighting for days are building and he doesn’t think he has the strength to fight them much longer. He puts the bottle down on the desk, next to the mixtape that he had pulled from his pocket. He can’t look at it for long, can’t even think about it.

  
His bed welcomes him as always when he collapses on it, fully dressed. His throat feels clogged and his eyes burn. The room around him doesn’t look that different to how it was a week ago. It feels different though. The whole bunker does. Larger and colder, the once welcoming hallways now feel empty and distant. There is no noise, no friendly chatter or Netflix playing down the hall.

  
There’s no gentle knock upon his door and a voice full of thunder softly breaking the silence.

  
There’s no home to be found in these walls anymore.


End file.
